Tonglu: Wheels on the Holy Road

The DHR at Ghoom

The next day remained thoroughly cloudy again and was spent on a visit to Tiger Hill, Batasia Loop and a walk on the mall and buying some souvenirs for the folks back home. Went off to Joey’s Pub yet again and that was when the thought of a motor ride along the Sandakphu route spurred.

Kanchenjunga Range from Tonglu

The road was metalled till Chitrey and swung steeply upwards, over which the motorcycle leaned brilliantly at the hairpins and pulled through effortlessly. But it was the journey from Chitrey to Tonglu that proved to be exceptional. A mere 9 km ride took more than 2.5 hrs. A couple of times it fell down – the second time being more severe when it had proved impossible for me to make it stand. For a moment I wanted to return, but help arrived in the form of a descending Land Rover driver. He helped me to make it stand and from there on there wasn’t an instance that went awry. Shortly before and after Lameydhura I managed to engage the 2nd gear for short stretches of 200 ft. And this was on a ride, where at times even the first gear prompted questions of being underpowered. The motorcycle, while in motion, felt wobbly and unbalanced over the loose boulders that a simple touch would have toppled it. But overall I was impressed with the cycle.

Forests in the Singalila Ridge

By the time I reached Tonglu, the mist had rolled back in with impunity, causing unnecessary delay in finding the home stay, where, after a hot meal of rice, dal, omelette and beans curry I sat on the chairs laid out on the verandah and wondered “what to do” and observed the fight between the mist and the sun for a while and reflected upon the ride.

Mt. Jannu ( also known as Kumbhakarna)

In the late afternoon hours as the cold started to peak, the urge to buy some cigarettes and certainly to escape the gripping cold got over me. And I went for a short downhill walk to Tumling along a path that cut through an open ridge over which the wind was always howling. The clouds and thick mist felt sad and lonely. Dense junipers and trees had grown wild and the rhododendron bushes had turned brown due to the autumn. The valleys on either side were bucketed with clouds. And the sun appeared to be almost non-existent in the dense mist above. The forests that extended from the hill sides were red, brown, yellow and green. A folk of sheep was returning back home from the pasture lands. All of these represented Tumling, which until a few years ago had only a trekkers hut and a solitary homestay. But today boasts of quite a few houses.

The Toy Train Engine

The commercial break at Tumling was prolonged further by a long conversation with another trekker, which finally ended in lighting up a camp fire with glasses of Thumba (local beer made from bamboo root and stems to keep the body warm).The wind along the ridge remained ferocious and kept rising and it thwarted all attempts to lit up the fire initially. But later it relented and a big fire was lit, around which a dozen or so folks, most unknown to each other, sat over glasses of Thumba. And as the flames flickered wild and high, stories of ghosts in the mountain, shadows moving along ridges, foot prints of snow leopards, mythical birds, of treacherous snow, of the Kanchenjunga massif and its glaciers and crevasses lit up a story like, enchanting evening. By the time the glasses had been wiped clear and the session had ended, the wind had lost its force and it had turned pitch dark.

Darjeeling Town

Armed with a pocket torch, I retraced the path solitarily. Somewhat afraid of Bon Manchis and wild predators that we had discussed only very recently. But then threw away the fears out of my head and instead concentrated on walking briskly. The Thumba proved be an effective antidote to the cold. And at times to reassure that everything was well and fine, I kept looking back at the lights from the hamlet of Tumling. I continued to walk further till I reached a point where it felt strange and lonely. There was complete silence. It was cold, but not windy anymore. Beyond the silhouette of the stunted bushes and an undulating hill was the sky. The clouds had disappeared and instead it was a starlit sky of constellations –the Milky way and God that was a beautiful! I sat on a boulder by the road side and lit up a cigarette and watched the stars above. This place, right in the middle of nowhere remained the unhurried, calmest spot in an otherwise busy journey. This short walk reinforced the belief which I had carried for long. Walking should have been the way to explore this trail. Riding a motorcycle has been a sacrilege of sorts. The barking of a dog somewhere broke the moment of consciousness and reminded me to reach the Tonglu hut; where I came to realize that my absence had ticked off some frayed nerves. A couple of men had gone looking after me and I was severely rebuked for my acts.